


These misunderstandings will end us

by Pai61



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: I swear, M/M, Not As Bad As It Seems, SnowBaz, Soulmate AU, Suicide Attempt, Trigger Warnings, anything you write on your skin appears on your soulmate au, heeaaaavvvyyy swearing so watch out, i try not to hurt these precious boys, lots of descriptions about self-harm and stuff, simon is a powerful queen, so many tags welp, they won't die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 18:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18429419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pai61/pseuds/Pai61
Summary: Baz knows that Simon is his soulmate, Simon loves admiring Baz, possibly more than his soulmate. The chaos that ensues is heart wrenching I'm sorry. There are lots of trigger warning but I promise no one dies (completely). It's angsty and hella fluffy and some heavy makeout scenes at the end. Penny and Agatha are minor characters (I know I'm horrible). I'm a proud mom don't judge.BTW: I don't own any of the characters, they all belong to the fabulous queen of all things Snowbaz, my favorite Rainbow Rowell (cheers in the background!) and I am making no profit off this fic, or any of my fics. I do not mean to infringe on copyright rules.





	These misunderstandings will end us

**Baz**

Once, around the time Merlin was around, there was an up and coming mage, so powerful he could destroy everything within a mile radius, he could weave his magick   into the very fabric of time. This mage created the very first soulmate bonds. He did this because he was lonely. He managed (historians and myself still don’t know how) a spell that could connect two souls that were simply destined to be together, and he created this magick   so he could find his own. However, he did not forsee, that not every soul has a match, and when he came up blank, the greatest mage threw himself off a cliff into the misty waters of the Atlantic, and he disappeared into the foam, no remains to be found. Now, all the mages of this world, have him to thank for finding their true love, their best friend, their one and only. When you are born, you have marks all over you, strange languages, maps, symbols. By the time you hit three months, they disappear. Then, every time your soulmate writes on you, their writing appears on your skin. Every cut, scar and bruise and line pops up on your own body. Tattoo sales barely dropped though, so people could get matching tattoos, and only one of them had to actually get it. Now, all you have to do is put your name and address on your arm, and your soulmate, if they want you that is, will come running.  But I don’t want mine. Because he couldn’t possibly love me. This great mage fucked up, there is no way he could ever love me. In fact, right now? We are the best of enemies. Our (his) hate is so strong he goes like a bomb when I push him to. He thinks I’m a monster (I am). I turn to my arm, where his latest doodles make their way up my forearm. The one class we don’t have, he draws all over himself. It’s during this time I stay shirtless in our room, because then I can watch Snow be himself without me. 

“Hey,” he writes. I never answer. I can’t give myself away, ever. I never bruise myself or get hurt, I make sure my skin is flawless every day, and it pays off. Snow thinks his is Agatha, or thought. Word has it they broke up. Wellbelove doesn't have a soulmate apparently. She’s embraced it. Perfect Princess Wellbelove got a tattoo. An asexual flag. For the first time, I kind of respect her. Her and Bunce seem to be a tight unit nowadays, which leaves Snow alone. Lately, I’ve been kinder to him, less fighting, less laughing, less teasing. The works. But I’m, well me enough that he doesn’t feel like his world is crashing down, or that I pity him. We’re almost friends now. But that still doesn’t mean I’m going to pull of my mask and show him the expanse of drawing along my arms and legs that he so kindly left there. I look down and see the new line of words written below ‘hey’.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I have to know you are there.” I decide, that because he sounds so, broken, I’m going to let him hope. Just this once. I draw a tiny little heart where my own would be beating, if I wasn’t dead, you know. I know he can feel a tiny twinge and burn, which everyone feels when something gets written on their skin. I know he is tracing it with his fingers and I hope he is smiling. 

“Thanks, I’ll leave you be now.” I tear up a bit, because I wish I could be there for him, as his soulmate, not just his tentative friend. I lay down on the bed and wait for his arrival. The clock on my wrist ticks and I can hear the cogs turning and the little battery whirring, whirring. I just lay there, staring at the shadows as the sun sinks behind the English fields and the clouds churn and roll through the sky. I hear my dead heart beating, too slow to be human, to fast to be a corpse. I listen to the sounds of people in the courtyard, frolicking with friends, and people practicing on the fields. I glance at my watch and it reveals it’s time for me to pick my ass up and haul it over to the field. I put on my uni and tie my hair up, I look like a right gay mess, but I couldn’t care. I glance at my arms and legs, remembering the marks all over them, and look outside. It’s cold enough for people not to question sweats and a long sleeve shirt under the uni. I get ready (again) and walk out. Before slamming into Snow, who looks like he’s being chased by the Chimera from fifth year (I’m still sorry). He doesn’t give me a glance before throwing himself in the bathroom and slamming the door. Of course, because he is a bloody idiot, the door doesn’t actually shut, so I have a full view of the tawny gold and freckled expanse of Snow’s back after he practically rips the shirt off. Really, I heard a couple of buttons clatter to the ground. My breath is stolen as he pants and smiles at himself in the mirror. I see why. He’s looking at the small heart drawn right over his own. My little heart. I smile and before he can catch me looking fond and gay, and really very un-Pitch-like, I rush down to the field. Still wearing this damn grin. But when I see my team warming up, I steel myself for another rough bout of football.

**Simon**

I can still feel the little trace along my chest, the small tingly feeling someone gets when their soulmate draws on themselves. I laugh and cry a little, because they are there. Girl (or boy) (Baz helped me realize my total bisexuality whatever. I mean, labels are shit, so. Ugh). Anyways, my soulmate is there, and they at least have to like me a little, because they drew a heart gosh darn it. A small, but still there heart. I laugh again and I feel so free. Glowing. I know my magick   is coming off me in waves, but for the first time, in a really really long time I might add, it feels like I’m in control. That’s what my soulmate does to me. I feel like I’m driving, like I know exactly where I am going, and am sure that if any surprises come my way, I can face them. I button my shirt back up, and remember seeing Baz on the stairwell. He’s probably at practice already. I pull on a light hoodie and then I head out in the same direction. I’ve stopped watching Baz because I think he is plotting, I’ve been watching him just to really look at him. He’s always covered head to toe in fabric, but I can see his muscles rippling under the fabric when it pulls taught when he runs. He looks strong, powerful, as well as graceful. He looks the best out there on the field, and everyone else knows it too. His hair is pulled up and looks impeccable (Penny taught me that word, she got tired of perfect), even when little pieces come loose and fall over him face, making the contrast of his pale skin against dark hair look wonderful. I can’t see too well from all the way up here on the ramparts, but I can just imagine the very faint blush he’ll get after a gruelling chase for the ball (bloody vampire, he never blushes). I can’t make out his eyes, but I can picture their gleam when he knows his next pass is going to be absolutely brilliant. In short, Baz is fantastic at football. His technique is flawless, his attacks are precise and well vicious, and his (vampire) strength shows up on the field. He can outrun any of his teammates, and he can kick a harder goal than everyone. So hard, that at last game, the goalie went with the ball, and the goal was scored anyways. He just looks beautiful, practically edible when he plays out there. I think that the only time that he looks better is when he is playing violin. I spied on him when he was practicing once. I was still wearing the effects of ‘quiet as a mouse’ from when Penny was practicing, that he didn’t hear me. He looks magnificent. Ethereal (another word from Penny), godlike, stupendously gorgeous. All his hard edges faded away, and he melted with the music. His hair was down, and his eyes were closed, and his fingers flitted over the strings like tiny dancers in a ballet. His bow made long, graceful movements, and the sound. It filled the air and the sweetest, saddest melodies burst forth like they belonged to him, he commanded them and bent them into the perfect shape. My magick   felt, well, calm. I was soothed and the colors seemed brighter. I thought I could see the shimmer of a tear, but I dismissed it as a trick of light since my own were pouring down my face. I was smiling and crying because Baz was playing violin like it was his last song. It meant something, I think, to both of us. Before he could catch me, I hurried away and cried for twenty minutes, but the entire time I was smiling. To be honest, I think I’m cheating on my soulmate emotionally because of how much I pay attention to Baz. He’s one of my better friends now, since I dissed the mage and had a real good talk with Penny about the importance of neutrality when you have two very insane sides warring against each other. Also, now, I can tell when he is being mean, when I look at him, his eyes tell a whole world of emotion, and not one of them says hateful. So we’re friends, even though I’m so obsessed with admiring him it’s probably not okay. He’s just made a glorious shot at the goal, and I clap softly, still stuck in my admiration for him. Coach blows the whistle and he shakes his hair loose from the bun he had it in. It’s all sweaty and his face is flushed, but he still looks gorgeous. I can’t even get mad at him for it. He heads to the showers and I stay out in the ramparts, watching the very last of the sun’s rays disappear. It gets chilly so I just head straight to dinner. I grab my pen from my pocket as I head there and when I get to the table and get my food, I start my doodles, whilst shoving food into my mouth occasionally. Aggie and Penny roll their eyes, and I agree with them, because I am an animal when it comes to food, and yes, I am obsessed with soulmates. I mean, don’t I have a right. Penny knows hers is Micah, and she talks to him all the time (on her illegal phone, she thinks skin cancer is in my future). Aggie has no soulmate and she’s fine with it, so I’m left. I have one, and I don’t know who they are, or where they are, or how old they are. Sometimes, I heard, people get soulmates too old for it to be considered appropriate. And even worse, their soulmates can die before they ever get to meet them. So, of course I want to find mine. And, I also want to give them gifts. Penny told me I’m good at drawing, so I do it all the time. 

“Please don’t draw on your hands.” is suddenly inked on my forearm.

“Why?” I pen back.

“My hands look diseased, in the best way, and it simply isn’t professional.” They write back.

“Oh, do want me to stop altogether?”

“No! Just, maybe not is super visible places?”

“Oh, okay. You do like them right?” I know I sound needy, but I need to know.

“I” It takes a while for the second part to ink in as well, “think they’re beautiful. You’re really talented.” I smile and look at the loops and swirls of their cursive. It looks familiar, but I can’t place it. I doodle a little flower blooming in sunlight on the inside of my forearm, under their handwriting.I shade it carefully and, to be honest, it’s my best drawing so far. I eat the rest of my meal and down countless scones, still smiling. I’m radiating elated magick  , and the conversations feel more lively. Penny smirks at me and grabs my wrist, dumping one of my scones on Agatha’s lap. She sighs and daintily plucks it off her skirt and places it in my other hand. I shove it in my mouth and watch Penny’s face as she reads the writing. 

“He sounds like a right arse. But a nice one. He said you draw nicely, so I guess I give you my seal of approval,” she tells me after dropping my wrist spontaneously.

“Yuh Knoh- theyw’re mwy swoulmathe, is no li I cah geh rih of theh” I say, spitting crumbs everywhere. 

“Gross, Simon. Chew!” Aggie scolds me while wiping her face.

“They’re my soulmate, Pen. I can’t just, get rid of them because you don’t approve,” I say after swallowing. She scowls and raises one eyebrow, but I know I’ve won, at least for now, because the conversation about my soulmate ends there. I glance back down at the ink, and I grin again. When dinner ends I skip back to Mummers house. Baz is in the bathroom and I flop on the bed. The light floods our room and he looks at me questioningly, before heading to his own bed. I suddenly become aware of a question.

**Baz**

“Do you have a soulmate?” Snow asks out of the blue. 

“Why do you ask, Snow? And anyways. It’s hardly any of your business, it’s quite a personal matter, and you don’t have to know everything about me,” I end, rather harshly. He looks a little put out, and his magick   dims a bit, but soon it bounces back.

“Well, you know, I just hardly see you writing to them, and you always wear concealing clothes, so it’s not like I can see what they have written to you,” he finishes, smiling.

“Do you want me to reveal more skin, Snow?” I question, one eyebrow raised, and a smirk hinting at the corners of my mouth. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open.

“N-no, just an observation,” he stutters too loudly. I don’t let my disappointment show, and I decide to toss him around a bit.

“Pity, I was almost prepared tos triptease!” At his expression I burst out laughing and so does he. Glaring at me, and failing. 

“You never answered my question. Tyrannus,” he says sternly. I glare at the mention of my first name, and he giggles.

“I am going to keep calling you that if you don’t tell me,” He says, continuing to giggle at my expense.

“Fine, Snow, because you asked so kindly, and threatened me. I do have a soulmate, and I do write to them,” I say softly, pulling out my textbook, hinting that my reveal time is over.

“Oooh, who are they?” He asks me excited, like a puppy handed a bone, “Do they go to Watford, do you know who they are? Tell me, tell me!” I can see he just won’t quit so I look over my book and sigh. I close it again and I prepare myself for this.

“I know who they are, and he does go to Watford. He, he’s so beautiful. And kind. So kind, he’s kind of like you, Snow,” I mumble, “He is brave, strong, and maybe not the most intelligent. Not like me,” I smirk at him, “ but he tries. He is unfailingly loyal when a person deserves it, and he has a never ending supply of smiles. He is rash, impulsive, and lack any sort of mannerisms, but, in the end, he makes it up by being himself. He is like the sun, and I’m crashing into him. We’ll end in flames. And he is going to be the death of me,” my smile sours and I continue, “the truth is though, he doesn’t know who I am. He would hate me. Because I’m a monster, because I’m weak, because I am nothing when he is everything. And I’m too much of a coward to reveal myself,” I’m crying now. I’ve revealed too much, so much. But Snow doesn’t even realize, he is so oblivious. 

“I’ll kill him Baz, I’ll bloody kill him if he makes you cry. You aren’t a monster, you’re just a boy. A powerful, strong boy who I’m lucky to be friends with. I’ll protect you, and I promise, he won’t hate you. Tell him. You deserve to be with the one you so obviously belong with,” He sounds a little sad, but I’ve got snot running down my face and I’m sobbing hysterically. Snow is holding me, rocking me back and forth,a nd I don’t even remember him climbing into my bed and hugging me. I hold him tighter, and all my plans for studying are forgotten as I drain myself of tears. My eyes feel sticky and they sting. I’m so, so tired.

**Simon**

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch just fell asleep, on me, after sobbing and hugging for hours and spilling all his feelings. I’m so shocked. I coo softly at him as he lets out tiny little snores. I head to the bathroom after carefully tucking him in, and I clean up his face. I look at him, and he is so peaceful, just lying there, sleeping, I can’t help but stare. I make up my mind impulsively and I crawl under his covers and hug him. This is what friends do, they cuddle when one of them needs comfort, and they totally ignore all their feelings for their friend’s sake and their soulmate’s sake. A friend never stares at his friend and thinks about how beautiful he is, and want to kiss him at the peak of his long aristocratic nose, and at the dip of his Widow’s Peak. A friend never brushes his thumb along his friends arm and thinks about how soft his skin would be, and how it would feel against his lips. A friend never thinks about holding his friends hand and taking them out and snogging them and doing so much more with them. A friend doesn’t stay too long in showers because they can’t stop thinking about their friend. Friends don’t do that. Suddenly, I feel disgusting, because here I am, wanting to do so many things to my roomate, ex-nemesis, and now best friend (next to Pen and Ags), when not a couple of hours ago, said roommate sobbed over their eternal love for their soulmate, and not only an hour before that, I myself talked to my soulmate. Here I am, falling hopelessly in love with my friend who loves someone else, and I have someone out there for me. My feelings are treacherous, because I do care for my soulmate, but I love someone else. I carefully climb out of Baz’s bed and I head softly into the bathroom, where I scrub off all the ink on my body. I then write a tiny little message on my hip.

**Baz**

Sunlight shines on my eyes and I hear Snow stumbling around, probably shirtless. I keep my eyes closed and hold onto a dream where Snow cuddles with me. When he finally leaves I open my eyes, climb out of bed, and head for the loo. When I look in the mirror, I see a flash of ink on the top of my pyjama pants. I pull them lower and glance down at my hip. There, written in Snow’s barely legible scrawl, are the words I feared most.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t be your soulmate. I am in love with someone else.” Two roses on different planets, drifting away from each other are inked into my skin right next to his cruel words. I turn around and spell the door sound proof. I turn to the shower and open it scalding hot. I jump in, still in my silk pyjamas and I scream. I scream so loud my throat feels raw. My skin burns and I feel blisters form on my shoulders as the water cascades down onto me. I sob and punch the wall until my knuckles bleed, and I hate the way it heals too rapidly for it to be human. I rip at the clothes stuck to my body and I howl. I don’t care if I’m late. This is the worst thing that has ever, ever happened to me, right up there with the death of my mother. My soulmate, the love of my life, my friend, my roommate, didn’t want me, even before he met me. Even when he promised to kill whoever would make me cry. Simon bloody Snow doesn’t want me. He loves someone else. I yell and scream and cry until there is no voice left. This reminds me of Phillipa and I keep punching the wall and ripping my clothes to shreds because all I see is Snow’s face when Phillipa’s voice disappears with a squeak. I claw at myself and I leave cuts and marks all over me. I don’t care if Snow can feel it too, I don’t care if his own skin twinges as he feels my self-destruction. I collapse onto the shower floor and I let the water sun cold. Eventually, it’ll shut off. I’m in my pants and my ripped pyjamas, but I don’t care. My life is over. At least, when we were enemies, Snow still cared enough to hate me. Now, I’m absolutely nothing. I’m a heartless monster that nobody wants. Even my mother killed herself when she was Turned. I should just die. I grab a pair of scissors I use to trim my hair, and I bring it close to me. I stare at them, watching as the blades glint in the bathroom light. My life is not worth it, I should just die. 

**Simon**

I shove scone after scone, drenched in melted butter into my mouth. I’m nervous. Very very nervous. Baz didn’t come to breakfast this morning, and he wasn’t in any of our shared classes. Baz, never, ever, ever, ever, emphasis on the EVER, skips class. He fears Penny’s intelligence too much to relinquish his seat at the top. I chew and chew and chew as I try to think about where he could be. Not five minutes ago, after I brought him up for the millionth time, Penny suggested he was sick. Her and Ags left to sit somewhere else because they were tired of me, but I can’t help it. I decide that I’ve had it, just when I feel something cut into my wrists. I’ve had concerning twinges all day, but all I can think about is Baz. I look down, and I can see scars cutting themself into my flesh, I can feel my soulmates warm blood seeping from their veins. My soulmate is killing themselves. And I couldn’t give a bloody shit. Baz isn’t here and I feel an irresistible urge to find him. Then I’ll worry about my soulmate. I know they are my responsibility, but I love Baz more than butter, more than Watford scones, and I dare Crowley, Merlin, and Morgana to fight me if I don’t get to Baz first. I run out of the cafeteria, wand in hand, and I push doors out my my way. I shove people and I don’t even call sorry. I bounce and bump into walls and Baz is the only thing on my mind. Because I don’t know where he is, and there’s something squeezing my heart. I need him, I need to see him. I need to tell him. I need to tell him I love him. Even if he won’t love me back. I race up Mummer’s house and push open the door. Baz’s bed is unmade (what the actual fuck is going on. Baz always makes his bed!) I see the bathroom light on, and even though I can’t hear anything, I know he is in there. 

“ **Let me in!** ” I shout with magic. The door flies off its hinges. I look around, but when my gaze falls down I scream. Baz is sitting in the tub, nearly naked, weak and pale. His skin on his shoulders is red and blistered. But his wrists, his chest. There are thousands of little cut marks from his nails (they are stained red). His wrists are slit open, and his hair cutting scissors which I always called pretentious lie by his hand, blood dripping off of them. 

“NO BAZ YOU ABSOLUTE TWAT! YOU WANKER! YOU SELFISH BUGGER! YOU LITTLE SHIT! WHY! WHY!” I’m screaming, I’m yelling, I’m sobbing.

“You don’t love me, Simon. You said so,” he mumbles, his fingers twitching at his hips. His breathing is ragged and then it fucking stops. It fucking stops. I yell incoherently and my magick   is spilling, pouring from me. My vision is red and I remember, the little note I left on my hip, the twinges over my body, the cutting feeling on my wrist. Baz is my soulmate. Baz is my soulmate and I made him fucking die. I am screaming and I grab his wrists, his blood wetting my hands, and I push all of it into him.

“ **Don’t you dare fucking die, you are going to heal goddamn it, HEAL!** ” My voice is dripping with magick   and I hope, I pray it works. I push it into him. I push it all. Under my thumbs, I feel his skin bonding, growing back. His marks and cuts heal and he looks whole again. I’m still yelling, still pouring magick  . But he isn't waking. He isn’t waking. He lost so much blood, my soulmate vampire lost the limited blood he had and he isn’t breathing. I growl and scream and suddenly there are birds flying into the bathroom. I summoned them. I must kill hundred of fucking birds because this little shit needs blood. 

“ **Wake up. Live, drink. Baz, I love you, wake up. Get yourself the fuck up. Baz!** ” And I’m pouring a poor little bird’s blood into his mouth, and he’s gasping. He’s waking up, he’s gasping, breathing. I cry hysterically, laughing with relief, as he gasps, fights for air and I hand him more birds. In his half coherent state, his fangs pop out and he slurps down bird after bird after bird. I don’t even care, because my soulmate is alive. I’m covered in his blood, and he just tried to kill himself, but he’s alive. Breathing, awake, in all his vampire glory. As he finishes drinking from the last of the birds I butchered (now I guess I’m just as much as a monster as he is. We match. I think I might make honorary not-so-vampire of the year), I pull him close to me. When I notice how cold he his, I push him away a bit. I remove my jumper and shirt and I hold him up against my chest, (hopefully) warming him up. He’s shivering, crying a little. We are covered in blood, two boys, in a bathtub, holding each other, half naked. A Mage’s Heir and a Pitch Heir. Together, in love, holding each other, crying. 

“ Why, Simon. Why would you save me? You said, y-you s-said you di-din’t love me?” He hiccups and stutters and pushes himself closer. I breathe him in, and kiss the top of his head.

**Baz**

He kisses the top of my head and I can hear the fondness in his voice.

“I was ditching my soulmate for you Baz. I ditched you, for, well you,” he says, laughing lightly. I can feel the way the muscles in his chest and abdomen ripple and shift. I look up at him.

“You are such a bloody moron, only you would decide to change out your soulmate for the one you were destined to be with in the beginning,” I’m laughing at him. I’m alive and laughing at, no with, him. Crowley, I’m living a charmed life. SImon Snow prevented me from killing myself, and then he is cuddling with me. Oh, Merlin. I really must be dead.

“You know you love it. I know I love you,” he tells me softly. 

“I do. Simon Snow, I love you.” His breath hitches and he looks at my lips. I stare at him eyes and I let my tongue drift over my bottom lip. His pupils expand and he growls at me.

“Don’t you ever, and I mean ever, Baz, try to kill yourself. Or so help me God, I will some right after you and kill you again,” this heathen. Such a moron. 

“Your such a mo-” I try and tell him but his chapped lips are attacking mine with a passion only Simon bloody Snow would have. It’s all teeth and tongue and I can’t even feel self-conscious about the bird blood in my mouth because he’s kissing it all away. And all I can feel, all I ever want to feel, is this. His lips on mine. We’re kissing each other senseless and I’m fighting him, we’re always fighting. It’s fight after fight, year after blasted year, that we’re making up for with this. I’m so hungry, so hungry, but not for blood (that’s a lie, I’m a vampire, I’m always thirsty). I’m hungry for Simon. His hands still covered in my blood, snake up my back and into my hair, and I do the same, not really understanding what’s going on, but I want to feel his soft curls in my hands. We tug at each other’s hair and we kiss until our lips are numb. But I’m suffocating in the world that is Simon’s mouth, so I pull away. We gasp and we stroke each others heads. I run my fingers over his moles, and his grab my shoulders. I lean forward and I kiss the moles on his face, softly, not missing a single one. His eyes flit closed and I brush my lips over his eyelids. I make my way down his neck, under his jaw, by his ear. I kiss every one, and I trace constellations of freckles with innocent tongue flicks. He’s breathing so heavily, and his blood thrums through his veins. I can hear it all, and I let myself wander down his neck to his chest, pushing myself away so I can reach all of them. I make him turn around, so I can get all the ones on his back. All the moles that drove me insane over the years. I kiss every one. And it takes every ounce of self restraint not to go lower, because we have time, all the time in world. He opens his eyes and we kiss, this time softly, and the blood is everywhere, but for the first time I can’t care, because Simon is in my arms.

**Simon**

After kissing my moles, I wonder how long he has wanted to do that. He is so pale, so beautiful. His skin is flawless. Only little traces of blood are left. My hands run all over his chest and back as we snog softly, gently. We make up for all the years we lost. Baz is finally under my hands, right where I want him. I kiss him until I hope every negative thought has left him, until all that is there is him, Baz. My beautiful, snarky, gorgeous Baz. And me. His soulmate. I can feel all the kisses I give him twinge on my own skin. It drives me crazy. I do it more and more, my mouth traveling everywhere, sucking marks and biting all over his neck and chest. This boy, he’s mine. Mine. And I dare anyone to come and get him, because they will never make it out alive. This boy, he’s mine. I am leaving so many little marks, so many imperfections, it’s making me insane. I’m more of a vampire than he is by this point. I run my teeth down his Adam’s apple and I grin against his pale white throat. I pull back and marvel at my handiwork. He’s looking at me with hooded eyes, and even though we are lying in the cold bathtub, I still feel warm. I look at him and I suddenly take in how dirty we are. I laugh and I pull him up, kissing his chastely.

“We need to take a shower, darling,” I say against his ear, biting it softly. He smiles, and nods. I left the great Baz Pitch speechless. Oh Merlin, I’m living a charmed life. I turn on the shower for him and step out, because I don’t think we’re ready. I give him time and space and when he finishes and puts on a towel, I kiss him, and tell him to wait for me. I shower so quickly I get water on the ceiling, but I’m not separating us anymore than what is absolutely necessary. I climb out and in my towel I change into some Watford pyjamas and my boxers. I stumble into the room, and he. Is. Sitting. On. My. Bed. Looking. Like. An. Angel. I practically run to him. He smirks at me.

“Eager, are we Snow,” he says.

“You called me Simon,” I tease him.

“No, I did not. You’re just delusional,” he’s laughing. I climb on top of him, straddling that little twat. He shuts up and looks at me with wide eyes.

“I like it when you call me Simon,” I murmur, looking at his lips. He gulps and I trace the movement with my eyes.

“Simon,” he whispers and I kiss him for all I’m worth. I kiss him, and I kiss him, and we’ve probably missed dinner but I don’t care. I snog him and snog him. I’ve finally got him. I’ve finally got him, right where I want him.

**Baz**

He’s got me. I’m finally his, in his arms. Right where I belong.

FIN


End file.
